


Nightmare

by Soupernabturel



Series: Magical Mystical Bunker Verse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fic, Cuddles, Cuddling, Destiel - Freeform, Domestic, Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, Human Castiel, Little bit of angst, M/M, Sleeping Together, fallen!cas, me writing with a different tense, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 00:50:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2488313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soupernabturel/pseuds/Soupernabturel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Against the stark blackness of his room Castiel can still feel the nightmares creeping in. His chest is a cage, constricting and trapping his heart, squeezing the air from his lungs as he gasps, trying to gain control. In his unconsciousness, images- memories, fears, flash across his mind in technicolour high quality- painting a myriad of horrors, some sensational, some more truthful, more believable, across Castiel’s vulnerable mind.</p><p>Even while awake the dreams linger. Like paper cuts all over his skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for tigerboydean on tumblr.

 

Against the stark blackness of his room Castiel can still feel the nightmares creeping in. His chest is a cage, constricting and trapping his heart, squeezing the air from his lungs as he gasps, trying to gain control. In his unconsciousness images- memories, fears- flash across his mind in technicolour high quality, painting a myriad of horrors, some sensational, some more truthful, more believable, across Castiel’s vulnerable mind.

 

Even while awake the dreams linger. Like paper cuts all over his skin.

 

Wings… burning.

 

Swallowing heavily, Castiel shakes off the thin, sweat slick blankets and cards a hand through his hair. His entire body feels tense, taught like a wire pulled too tight.

 

The Bunker is silent as he leaves his room, stepping lightly down the hallway with bare feet. It’s unsettling the silence, having been accustomed to the incessant buzzing of his brethren for the better part of several billion years, it’s no surprise that to be suddenly cut off now leaves Castiel unsettled.

 

It’s not surprising that Castiel finds himself outside Dean Winchesters bedroom. Of course, Castiel has many times made the trip to this particular section of the Bunker, though never quite for this.

 

It takes a moment- maybe two for Castiel to settle into a steely determination and wedge open the door which creaks on unoiled joints.

 

Dean’s room is black, quiet, and instantly familiar. If Castiel were to say- this particular room would be his favourite within the bunker (next only to the bathroom, there is just something divine about a large bubble bath) but maybe that has something to do with the room’s occupant.

 

Speaking of- Dean rises from his bed, body poised and tense at the sudden intrusion to his room just until he realizes exactly who it is that stepped through.

 

“Cas?” Dean asks, blinking blearily. He sits up more fully and rubs his eyes, though his body (blessedly) relaxes. “What’s wrong man?”

 

Something small, fond, fills Castiel’s chest, dulling his anxiety for a moment.

  
“I cannot sleep.” He answers, acknowledging the sudden unwillingness he can feel to divulge further as shame- embarrassment. Just another facet of being human that he needs to adjust to.

 

“Oh.” Dean says softly, quietly. Castiel’s breathe hitches as understanding flitters across Dean’s expression. The moment feels soft, fragile, like candy spun sugar caught in the air- and for a second Castiel contemplates backing out of the room.

 

All of that turns into something more solid, real when Dean shifts across in his bed, pulls down the covers and pats the mattress meaningfully. “C’mere.”

 

There is no question about it. Castiel settles into Dean’s bed with relief- wondering why he’d ever slept in his own in the first place. There is a moment or two of silence, as the two become comfortable- Castiel with his back to Dean laying on his side, Dean also on his side, his front flush against Castiel’s back, nose buried into the soft, downy hairs at the base of Castiel’s neck. Dean’s arms are the last things to fall into place. One burying Castiel head, resting on a pillow, the other wrapping around Castiel’s waist, fingers splayed against his stomach.

 

It’s quiet, peaceful. Dean’s scent is strong here, making Castiel turn his face into his pillow and inhale deeply. It doesn’t take long however for Dean to speak, his fingers tracing absent, soft patterns into the flesh of Castiel’s tummy.

 

“I still get em sometimes, nightmares- memories I suppose, from the pit.” His voice is hoarse with sleep, his words mumbled and thick. “This good?” Dean asks then, squeezing Castiel around the waist gently.

 

An unwitting smile forces its way to Castiel’s lips. “Yes. Thank you Dean.”

 

Dean just squeezes him in reply, and slowly- gently his breaths settle as sleep overcomes him. Castiel, encircled in Dean’s arms goes slack. Dean is a warm heavy weight against him, grounding him- reminding him of everything that is good and whole about humanity- of everything that Castiel fell for. The nightmares still linger, they always do- they may for some time still, blurring with age and time, there’s no telling what’s to happen. Love isn’t a cure, not on its own. The love Castiel feels in Dean’s arms-in his bed is not some sort of cure to an illness. It is however, comfortable, safe, reassuring.

 

It’s nice to not feel alone. To know he is not alone.

 

And in the light of the bright sun the next morning, Castiel, encircled in Dean’s arms, can’t help but feel at least a little better for the first time since falling.

 


End file.
